At dinner time tonight, I noticed that everyone across from me was in four layers. For each of them, the top layer was a puffy jacket. Surprised by this, I asked S if he were cold. No, he said, he felt fine. If he took off the jacket, however, he'd be cold.
I was sitting there, quite comfortable in a t-shirt and my long-sleeved t-shirt hoodie. And with the sleeves pulled up to my elbows.
As someone who has always run cold, running warm is an interesting curiosity.
I know that I can go short sleeves until 16˚C if I'm moving and minimal wind. I know that 15˚ is when I put on the long sleeved t-shirt, if I'm not moving, and 12˚ is when I do wear if moving, not in sun, or if there is wind. I know that climbing up the mountain, I'm in a t-shirt, long-sleeved hoodie t-shirt, and an R1 Patgonia fleece, and I'm just fine down to 8˚ no wind. Hell, if Baker is any indication, I'm good down to -2˚C with those three layers, and likely still sweating at the end.
What I didn't know, and hadn't realized, is that my heat lingered into stillness.
Either that fat adaptation thing is working, or high altitude is working some seriously strange numbers on my body. Those hot flashes earlier this year meant nothing to the raging heat I produce these days!
Also, the soup is consistently good on this trip.